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Das Lied von der Erde

Introduction

Mahler himself never heard Das Lied von der Erde. He completed it in 1909, having begun it two years earlier when a friend gave him Hans Bethge’s The Chinese Flute, a collection of German translations and adaptations of Chinese poetry. He had recently learned that he had a heart defect and in the poems he found an expression of his own philosophy – that the beauties of Nature renew themselves year after year and although mankind enjoys them for only a brief span, the earth blossoms again. What may have been envisaged as a song-cycle became a song-symphony in six movements. He orchestrated it in 1908–09 and told Bruno Walter it was the most personal work he had composed. One can trace a symphonic structure, with the short third, fourth and fifth movements forming a kind of scherzo. A large orchestra is used, but is often treated like a chamber group.

Though the wine in the golden goblet beckons,
drink not yet. First I’ll sing you a song!
A song of sorrow
with the derisive laughter of the soul.
When sorrow comes,
the garden of the soul lies wasted,
withered and dead are joy and song.
Life is only twilight, as is death.

Master of this house!
Your cellar holds a wealth of golden wine!
And here I call this lute my own!
To strike the lute and to drain the glass,
these are the things that best go together.
A full goblet of wine at the right time
is worth more than all the kingdoms of this earth!
Life is only twilight, as is death.

The firmament is eternally blue and the earth
will long stand fast and bloom in spring.
But you, Man, how long live you?
Not for a hundred years can you delight in
the rotten fruits of this earth!

Look over there! In the moonlight, among the graves
squats a wild and spectral figure.
It is an ape! Hear how his howling
rings out through the sweet air of life!
Now take the wine! Now it is time, companions!
Empty your golden goblets to the lees!
Life is only twilight, as is death.

In the middle of the little pond
stands a pavilion of green
and of white porcelain.
Like the back of a tiger
arches a bridge of jade
over to the pavilion.
In the cottage sit friends
beautifully dressed, drinking, chatting,
several are writing verses.
Their silken sleeves slip
backwards, their silken caps
perch cheekily on their heads.

On the little pond’s still
surface all appears reshaped
a strangely mirrored picture.
All are standing on their heads
in the pavilion of green
and white porcelain;
like a half-moon stands the bridge,
its arch upside-down. Friends,
handsomely dressed, drink and chatter.

Young girls are plucking flowers,
plucking lotus flowers by the water’s edge.
Amid the bushes and the leaves they sit,
gathering blossoms in their laps, and calling
to one another teasingly.
Golden sunlight twines around their forms,
mirroring them in the clear water.
Sunlight mirrors their slender limbs,
and their sweet eyes,
and the breeze lifts with fawning caresses
the fabric of their sleeves,
carrying the magic
of their sweet fragrance in the air.

O look, what a riot of handsome lads
there at the river bank, on prancing horses,
glittering far off like the sun’s rays;
soon in the shade of the green willows
the young lads canter!
The steed of one of them whinnies joyfully,
and shies, and curvets around,
upon the flowers and the grass its hooves fall,
crushing the flowers in sudden onslaught.
Hey! How its mane streams in a frenzy
how its hot nostrils steam!

Golden sunlight twines around their forms,
mirroring them in the clear water.
And the loveliest of the maidens sends
long yearning looks after him.
Her proud manner is only a pretence.
The fire in her great eyes,
the depth of her passionate glances
betray the tumult of her heart.

If life is only a dream,
why then toil and fret?
I drink until I can no longer,
the whole livelong day.

And when I can drink no more,
because gullet and soul are full,
I stagger to my door
and sleep most wondrously!

What do I hear on waking? Hark!
A bird is singing in a tree.
I ask him if spring is here.
I feel as if in a dream.
The bird twitters: Yes!
Spring is here, it came overnight!
In deep wonder I listen long,
the bird sings and laughs!
I fill my glass again
and drain it to the dregs
and sing, until the moon shines bright
in the black firmament!

And when I can no longer sing,
I again go back to sleep.
So what do I care if spring has come?
Let me always be drunk!

The sun is going down behind the hills.
In every valley evening descends
with shadows that are so cool.
O look! like a silver barque afloat
the moon through the blue lake of heaven soars.
I feel the stirring of a delicate breeze
beyond the dark fir trees!

The stream sings melodiously in the darkness.
The flowers grow pale in the twilight.
The earth is breathing, full of rest and sleep.
All desire now turns to dreaming,
weary mortals turn homewards,
that, in sleep, forgotten joy
and youth they may learn anew!
The birds huddle silent on the branches.
The world is sleeping!

There is a coolness in the shadow of the fir trees.
I will stay here and await my friend.
I wait for him to take a final farewell.

I long, O my friend, to be by your side
to share the beauty of this evening.
Where are you lingering? You leave me alone so long!
I wander to and fro with my lute
on pathways billowing with soft grass.
O Beauty! O eternally loving, living intoxicated world!

He alighted from his horse and handed him the drink
of farewell.
He asked him where he was going
and also why it had to be.
He spoke, his voice muffled: My friend,
fortune was not kind to me in this world!
Where do I go? I go, I wander in the mountains.
I seek solace for my lonely heart!
I journey homeward, to my resting-place!
I shall never again seek distant lands.
My heart is serene and awaits its hour!
The dear earth everywhere
blossoms in spring and grows green again!
Everywhere and always the distance shines blue
eternally … eternally …